The Art of It

Jerome padded over from the kitchen counter, in his muslin pants, and poured coffee for me—once more just Ted's "boy" doing all of the domestic chores. He smiled, but it wasn't the knowing "I fucked you good last night" smile that I expected—and that I deserved.

By my second cup of coffee, though, Ted's world became much more complicated and evil—and much closer to his book theme—and invaded and possessed my world just as surely as his cock had taken my channel the previous night.

Carrying his cup of coffee and a stack of paper, Ted came down the side of the table and sat down next to me. What he was carrying were glossy photographs, which he fanned out in front of me as he sat down.

They were photos of Ted and Jerome fucking me in the guest room bed. They were taken from several edge-of-the ceiling angles, and they clearly showed me enjoying the cocking I was receiving.

"What is this, Ted?" I asked when I could manage to say anything. I spilled my coffee when I first saw the photos, and Jerome dutifully came over and sponged up the spill and topped my cup up.

"This is fairly obvious, Shayne. This is you fucking two men on a bed. I'd show you some photos from the pool, but they didn't turn out nearly so good—or graphic."

"Why?"

"This is how we do it, Shayne. Now, I don't think we want your Denise or her grandfather to see these, do we? It's not just a marriage—and to a fine set of tits and a big butt—but the money as well, don't you think? It's also your job on the line. A whole future career."

"What do you want, Caldwell?" I asked. I tried to make my voice cold, uncaring. But it came out in a weak squeak. I needed the coffee badly, but I didn't think there was any way I could hold the cup without spilling it just now.

"Not much," Ted answered chillingly. "There's a safe in Jameson's office. I think you could get the combination to the safe and manage to be in the room alone for a few minutes. Don't you agree?"

"I . . . I don't know. This is all just too. . . . It's just happening too fast. Too much of shock. Yeah, I guess I could manage that."

We sat there and stared at each other for a long moment, and I blinked first and lowered my eyes.

"What's in the safe that you want?" I asked weakly.

There was a long pause, and Caldwell said, "Nothing. There's nothing in the safe I want, Shayne."

I looked up, and he was smiling. How could he smile at a time like this, I wondered.

"I don't understand," I mumbled.

"This was all to make a point, Shayne, although you do have a beautiful body, and a fine ass, and a nice, tight hole. And I always enjoy being the first. But we did it to make a point. I don't want a damn thing out of Jameson's safe. And we can burn these photos together—unless you want them for your trophy case."

"I still don't understand," I stammered.

"Jameson warned me that you didn't believe my book. That you didn't believe that normal men could just be seduced and suborned to do illegal, unpatriotic things for sex. I—with some help from Jerome and lots of cooperation from you—have just proved you wrong. I want you to write a better article for Spy than one of disbelief and dismissiveness. I think now that you can't possibly write your piece from disbelief that it could happen. There is an art to it. You've just been had by the art, and it took less than twenty-four hours."

Again a stare down, and this time I just couldn't help myself. I started laughing. First a nervous giggle and then a full, uncontrollable session of belly laughing that was only stanched when Ted put his arms around me and his lips to mine and rocked me back and forth in my chair.

"Do you need more notes, Shayne, or are we done here?" Ted whispered in my ear.

"I think I could use a few more notes," I said. I couldn't take my eyes off the photographs. More and more of what happened the previous night was coming back to me. And I couldn't deny the pleasure I saw in these photos and remembered from the actual coupling.

"Do you think you'll be staying the night again, then?"

"Yes, I think maybe I'd like that."

"And maybe a bit of a swim in the pool now—and maybe Jerome can join us?"

"Yes, that would be nice. I'm not sure I know where the swimsuit you gave me is."

"I don't think we'll be needing that, Shayne. Do you?"

"No, no, I guess not," I murmured.